


Painted Hearts

by LokiNeedsHugs1031



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, College, College Student Castiel, College Student Dean, Crying Dean, Crying Dean Winchester, Dean Crying During Sex, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Castiel, Professor Dean, Professor Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Shy Castiel, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Tumblr Prompt, Virgin Dean, Virgin Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiNeedsHugs1031/pseuds/LokiNeedsHugs1031
Summary: Cas takes an elective and falls in love with an art grad student :)Prompt for an AU of Dean as a professor and Cas as a student :)





	Painted Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



            “Are you ever gonna take something just for fun?” Castiel Novak’s best friend Charlie asked, balancing her arm full of books on one hip to free a hand to grab her cappuccino with a double shot, “Seriously, just for shits and giggles, you have a full ride may as well take advantage of it.”

            Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, “Will you let me help you before you scorch off your fingers,” he took the books without prompting as they found their usual spot at the far corner of the campus cafeteria.

            Once seated, as always Charlie gulped her coffee, grimacing as she burnt her tongue, “So like I said, fun classes, how about it?”

            “I’m not one for electives Charlie, it’s a waste of time.”

            “You’ve always been into sketching and stuff. I see you doodle in that journal you carry around everywhere! My Dorothy took painting 101 last semester, said it was a blast. It would do you good to take a step back from all that theology you study. Why you would need to know Latin, and Enochian is beyond me. Stuff leaves me brain dead, I mean, I get it, but it’s a head ache and a half,” she shook her head, picking the chocolate chips from her muffin, leaving half of it behind.

            “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

            “There ya go!”

 

            So reluctantly, on behest of his best friend, Castiel signed up for the class. He’d nearly forgotten he’d done so, given that finals had been hell. He hadn’t even been thinking of the Spring semester.

            It would be his last class of the day, he didn’t normally take evening classes, but true to his word to Charlie, he thought a break in his usual routine would be welcoming. One thing he didn’t count on however, was that it was on the opposite side of campus. And he found himself nearly running to get to Richards Hall. By the time he found the classroom he was 15 minutes late.

            Fantastic Castiel, make a great first impression. He hoped the classroom was big enough that he could simply slip inside, no such luck, it was small. There were maybe 20 people in the entire of the class, so when he opened the door, it was all eyes on him.

            He’d looked up the profile of the teacher who was leading this class, and what he was welcomed with was NOT the 60 year old hippie he’d seen in the picture. No, exact polar opposite.

            “T-This is Painting 101 right? I thought Professor Reardon was teaching…”

            “Last minute replacement, from what I hear Professor Reardon had a little too much fun in Miami over Winter break, can’t really teach a class with two broken arms.”

            Castiel clutched at his backpack, feeling his cheeks burn, the professor seemed far too young in his opinion to be an actual professor.

            The man gave a soft chuckle, “Are you,” he flipped a sheet of paper over a clip-board, “Castiel Novak?”

            “Y-Yes, I’m sorry about being late, my Latin class is across campus,” he stuttered.

            “I’m Professor Winchester, but I hate the labels, so call me Dean,” he gave an amused smile, “Don’t worry about being late. I’m not a hard ass in here, just as long as you show up. Take a seat.”

            Castiel took a breath, swallowing down the trill of anxiety in his throat as he took his usual preferred seat in the back.

            “So, Cas,” Dean started, “Since you are late to the game, we all introduced ourselves. You wanna give it a go?”

            “Not a lot to tell, really,” he found himself gulping, as he’d set his backpack to the floor, bending back up at the waist he hadn’t realized that the art teacher had moved into his space. He forced himself not to gasp, but he couldn’t help the wave of heat that flooded his cheeks. Dean was only smiling, seeming far too amused by his uneasiness than Cas thought he should be.

            “Of course there is. Latin? You a language major?”

            “Theology major,” Castiel eased himself back in the uncomfortable stool, he was really wishing there was a back to it like other classrooms, simply so he could lean away. This teacher was far too astute to his nervousness and it didn’t help that the man was gorgeous, and couldn’t be more than a couple years older than himself.

            “Theology major huh? Like angels and demons, God, all that stuff? I’d say that’s hella interesting,” Dean smirked, bending slightly at the waist, “Look here,” he rose a finger.

            “What are you doing?” Cas uttered.

            “Zaffre, Brandeis, Azure,” Dean’s face was playful but serious, “Yep, definitely heaps of Zaffre.”

            “What….” Cas began.

            “Colors of your eyes, that’s one of the main things we’ll be learning in here, and that’s colors. Rule of thumb, there’s never just one part to any particular hue.” he explained., “Alright if we get started now angel boy?”

            Now Cas was officially flustered, “Yeah, I mean yes sir.”

            “ _Dean_ , remember? Just Dean, never did like it when Professors demand to be called Dr. so and so,” and to Cas’ surprise he winked, moving out of Cas’ space and to the head of the classroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            As Dean finished up the class, briefly glossing over the syllabus, normal, boring first day stuff it took Cas quite some time to calm down. His first thought, once he beelined out of the classroom, was to head to the library and gain his bearings. And that in itself had him slightly freaking out, that he was reacting in such a way because of a teacher.

            Granted, he was a gorgeous, green eyed man, with the most perfect, pink pout he’d ever seen on any human being. But he was a teacher. He was far too use to the stuffy professors in his department, usually as stuffy as they could get, and old to boot. So lost in his own mind, the jostling at his side had him yelping.

            “How’d art class go?” Charlie asked, dropping her backpack to the floor with a loud thump.

            “Can you not sneak up on me like that?!” he snapped.

            “Geez, calm it down there cranky pants.”

            “I was late, made an ass of myself,” he groaned into both palms.

            “You’re such a drama queen, first days are always like that. Don’t go knocking it before you ease into it. That’s your MO Novak, give the class a chance.”

            “It really doesn’t help that the Professor, if he’s even old enough to be called that, is kinda weird. He got right up in my face and named off all the blue parts in my eyes. It was weird,” he knew he was trying to convince himself that it was annoyance and not attraction that had him flustered.

            “Wasn’t that hippie guy teaching it?”

            Cas scrubbed at his face, more than ready to call it a night and head back to his dorm, “No, this guy can’t be more than a couple years older than us.” and he’s gorgeous, he didn’t add, because he knew full well Charlie would jump on that in an instant. She’d also devise some kind of love connection plan.  
            “Bonus! Is he cute?”

            “What does that matter?”

            “How does it NOT matter?”

            “I’m heading home, I’ve got a headache brewing, and I’ve already got an outline due.”

            “Cop out,” Charlie gave him a playful shove, “I’ll see ya Thursday right?”

           

            This time, Cas made it a point to leave his Latin class five minutes early. That still didn’t seem to deter Dean’s playful attitude.

            “Hey angel boy, you don’t seem so out of breath today,” Dean smirked, arranging the large canvas on its easel.

            “I timed things a little better, sorry about Monday it’s just that…”

            “Cas, really, it’s cool, this ain’t a math class.” he interrupted, one paint splattered hand up to placate him, “You look like a guy that needs some loosening up, and I think this class is right up your alley.”

            Cas gave a slight nod and took his seat.

            “Okay class, today we’re gonna start our first painting. Since this is a beginner’s class I’m not expecting any Rembrandt. Relax and have fun. I thought we’d start with shapes and shading, who here took art in high-school.”

            Nearly everyone raised their hand.

            “Good, then most of you get the general idea. Just follow my lead.”

            The ever studious student that Cas had always been was somewhat faltering for the first time since he came to the University of Kansas. He stumbled with the first couple instructions, he felt as though he were playing catch up as he watched the students around him completing the task twice as fast. So immersed in what he was doing he hadn’t even noticed that most of the students had left.

            “How’s it coming along?” Dean’s voice arrived on his left, when Cas jumped, Dean was apologizing, “You sure are a jumpy little dude.”

            “I’m not, I was just concentrating,” Cas growled, “This is awful isn’t it.”

            “No, it’s not, show me how you’re holding yourself when you sketch,” Dean backed up, eyebrows up in expectation.

            Cas leaned towards the paper, heel of his hand against the surface, and then looked to the art teacher, “Like this, why’s it wrong?”

            “Try standing, some people can’t sit while they sketch, and I’m one of’em.” Dean said, “Okay, bend your elbow, here,”

            Cas’ inhalation was anything but steady as one of Dean’s hands was placed at the middle of his back, the other beneath his elbow, “You can make smoother lines this way, see?”

            Swallowing the lump in his throat, he thought he might be nodding as Dean moved his hand along the wobbly lines he himself had drawn. Oh, Dean had freckles. Lots of them, splayed over his nose and cheeks. And his eyes weren’t just green, they were candy apple green mixed with some kind of ridiculous type of soda pop glass.

            “Cas, you see what I mean?”

            “Yes, I-I do, yeah,” he stammered, scolding himself and hoping Dean hadn’t noticed his observation.

            “Take your time, don’t rush with this, got it? We’re the last class for the night so if you ever wanna stay behind and finish something up, you’re welcome to have at it. I usually get a lot of my own personal projects done here late at night. Janitors hate me for that,” he patted Cas on the back and returned to his own sketch.

            “I would, but I have a paper to work on I better…I’ll finish Friday, I promise,” Cas replied.

            “Sure, that’s cool, just leave your stuff in your locker over there, maybe practice some at home huh?”

            “Exactly my thought, yeah,” Cas shoved his notebook in his backpack and near stumbled out of the classroom, which earned him a well placed chuckle from Dean. He kept walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            To say that Cas was fixated at this point was an understatement. They were 6 weeks into the course, and Cas wasn’t sure if his lack of improvement was because of the distraction currently at the front of the classroom or he really did just suck at art.

            “Cas, come up here,” Dean’s voice, as it often did, broken through his day-dreaming.

            “What? Why?”

            “You’re gonna be my model today, we’re starting on eyes and lips, what better student huh?” he grinned, “Come on, angel boy, don’t be shy, I don’t bite.”

            That gave a soft round of laughter throughout the concrete -walled class room.

            Cas refrained from rolling his eyes, and tried not to look as frightened as he was feeling. His heart began to hammer as Dean led him to a chair beside his easel, “Now, like I said first day of class. There is never just one shade of a color, and eyes are a perfect example of this. Cas here, has the most complex and multi-dimensional color of blue I’ve ever seen. And the accompanying shade of red here is a nice compliment,” he smirked, giving Cas a playful wink, he tipped Cas’ chin with one finger.

            Cas’ face felt like fire now, but he couldn’t find himself to care with the feeling of the rough knuckle urging his head upwards. And then, Dean was serious, and studying him, his green eyes seemingly taking in every minute detail of Cas’ face, “You remember the colors I mentioned your first day?” Dean asked softly.

            Cas wet his lips, shocked his mouth had supplied saliva alone and he shook his head.

            “Zaffre, Brandeis, Azure,” his mouth pulled into a warm smile, “Heaps of Zaffre.”

            Cas stuttered a breath.

            “Let’s get started. Just keep staring ahead for me, not gonna pass up drawing a full on portrait. You ever been drawn?”

            Cas shook his head, eyes every now and again darting around the room, but the other students didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, merely following Dean’s lead as he began sketching out the shape of Cas’ eyes.

            Dean was fully focused on the task at hand, eyes locked on the canvas and then Cas, canvas, Cas, “Well that’s a crying shame, cause I don’t know,” he leaned closer for a moment and then back to his canvas, “If anyone has told you this,” and he lowered his voice just slightly enough that Cas’ stomach quivered, “You’re beautiful.”

            As Dean sketched out his face with ease, Cas watched with more diligence than he had all semester. The last thing he expected was to feel a clench in his stomach and his eyes burning. He never saw himself the way Dean was drawing him now. He was always the nerdy, quiet, loner. Nothing worthy of the subject of beauty. He’d certainly never been called beautiful.

            The class was nearing towards the end, Dean had him up front the entire time. It gave Cas the opportunity to study Dean the same way Dean was studying him. His hair wasn’t exactly blonde, it was darker, and he noticed he kept it shaved closer on the sides and longer towards the top. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and frequently while concentrating, he bit his lower lip.    “Hey, would you mind sticking around, letting me finish this?”

            “Uh, yeah, sure,”

            “I don’t wanna keep ya, I just, really like where this is going,” he smiled once more that same smile that reached up to the corners of his eyes.

            Cas shook his head, wringing his hands, “No, it’s, it’s cool, I don’t mind.”

            Still smiling Dean replied, “Awesome, let’s get some color to this. You are definitely worthy of oils.”

            “O-Oils?”

            “Yeah, something we ain’t gonna get into in this class. They’re a bitch, but man do I love the outcome. They’re really rich and vivid.”

            “How long you been a painter?” Cas asked, feigning to erase the shakiness of his voice.

            “Professionally? About ten years, but I’ve been doing this since high-school. Just lucky to land an internship and low and behold, pissing my parents off even more, I was hired here. Not like the arts program is huge, so once Reardon had his ‘accident’ a.k.a a rambunctious 20 year old. Voila they gave me the job.”

            “Can…I mean, may I ask how old you are? I was totally expecting the old hippie guy and then I saw you and…”

            That silly smirk from the first day was adorning Dean’s face now, “25, how about you angel?”

            Cas was sure he’d swallowed his tongue, and the room was far too silent with the absence of the other students, and it was far too warm as well, “23”

            “You shocked I’m teaching at such a young age? Yeah, me too,” he set his chosen set of paints and placed them on the desk, “However, that does not please the parents, they hear art major and the groans are heard around the world.”

            “Why?” Cas asked, tilting his head slightly, “You’re quite talented.”

            “My folks, well, my Dad, isn’t really into the arts and humanities. He’s former army,” he shrugged, “Art is way to ‘girly’ he said, so, although my Mom is proud, my Dad just stays quiet. I haven’t had much of my work noticed but this,” he nodded towards the evolving picture of Cas, “This is good, and I have plans for it, that is if you don’t mind helping me out.”

            “Huh?”

            “Cas,” Dean huffed a laugh, “I wasn’t messin’ with you when I said you’re beautiful. You are, in every sense. The moment I saw you, I was aching to put you on canvas.”

            “I-I don’t see that Dean, not at all,” Cas countered, he wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling anxious now. Because there wasn’t a chance in hell that someone this gorgeous could find him beautiful. Not to mention, in the haze that was his brain, could this man be gay.

            “Well, then I’m gonna show you how wrong you are,” Dean countered, “I don’t know if some asshole told you otherwise, but it’s true. Now sit still.”

            Dean worked in near silence, he deliberately turned the canvas out of Cas’ sight, and he went to work, “Jesus Cas, really,” he huffed a breath, shoulders slumping and eyes going wide over his work.

            “Really what?” Cas asked in confusion.

            “Beautiful, just beautiful,” Dean slipped down from his stool, “I’m far from done, but this is the highlights.”

            Cas managed not to gasp when Dean took his hand and pulled him around to the front of the canvas. There he was, bright blue eyes, his prominent lips that he was always so self-conscious about and wings. Wings splayed beautifully and huge across the canvas.

            “Why wings?” Cas inquired, that same burning in his eyes returning from earlier.

            “Because,” Dean spoke low, and with a chuckle, “You’re my angel.”

            Cas turned around, every pore on his body had risen and was vibrating, “Dean…”

            And then once more, like every other time, Dean was in his space, only this time he was cupping his face in both paint spattered hands, “Someone should tell you more often how gorgeous you are. It’s a mother fucking crime that no one has said that to you. They haven’t… have they.”

            “No,” Cas thought he squeaked, he rested his own hands over Dean’s and struggled for breath.

            “I really, really wanna kiss you,” Dean uttered quickly and breathlessly, “I’m sorry I know that’s probably wrong but I….”

            Cas didn’t answer, he acted.

            And oh, those lips were as plump and full, and perfect as he imagined them. It was especially perfect when he sucked that bottom lip between his teeth, even better when Dean moaned.

            “Cas, Cas, oh fuck,” he groaned when Cas pressed him up against the desk, “Would it be completely classless of me to recommend we go back to my place?”

            “Not if it’s close.” Cas panted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            They hardly made it past the front door.

            “This is a nice place, good neighborhood,” Cas uttered between fast and meaningful kisses, “Where’s the bedroom.”

            Dean didn’t answer, simply scooped him up, “This way.”

            As they both fell to the bed, Cas rolled them, straddling Dean with both thighs and capturing his mouth in an endless stream of bruising kisses.

            “First day, you had me, thank God for twenty-year-old-arm-breaking-women,” Cas spat, pulling his shirt over his head, urging Dean to sit up so he could undress him as well.

            “Here you’ve been all shy the last few weeks and then I get this? Yeah, I’ll pray to that God too,” Dean answered, working on the buttons of Cas’ pants.

            Cas shimmied his pants away and then worked on Dean’s pants as well, “Lift up,” he shucked them away, throwing them somewhere along the floor, and then in an instant was kissing his mouth once more, “I’m not shy when I go after what I want.”

            Dean groaned into his mouth, their tongue tangoing, “Cas, I-I’m not gonna rush you on this, what do you want…”

            Cas dotted kisses along his jaw, before suckling his pulse point, when he gave that place a meaningful nip Dean made the most amazing sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, “I want to be inside you, for us to be one with one another, that…that is what I want.”

            Dean’s exhale was more or less a whine, and he bucked his groin against Cas’ thigh, “Your move angel.”

            Cas eased his hand beneath the edge of Dean’s boxers, he gripped Dean’s length, thumb pressed against that bundle of nerves that were already leaking with pre-cum. He circled, thumbing the slit as he sucked hickie after hickie onto Dean’s beautiful throat.

            “Never, underestimate the quiet ones,” Dean gasped, his hips arching, “C-Condoms in the right drawer and lube.”

            Blindly so, Cas searched for the items, found them and set them on the side of the bed. He uncapped the lube, he wet his fingers properly and returned to kissing Dean aptly into distraction, all the while carefully sneaking his hand down to circle his entrance. He experimentally pressed his thumb, that earned him a well-placed whine, “You tell me if this is too much.”

            “I’m fine,” Dean protested, taking Cas’ face in both hands and kissing him fiercely, “I want you. Wanted you for weeks.”

            Cas pressed, only momentarily hearing a sound of resistance, once he was three fingers in, and with the slightest crooking of said fingers, Dean’s back arched off the bed as if he would break.

            “Oh fuck!”

            “Are you alright?!” Cas startled, and he almost removed his fingers but then Dean was reaching back, stopping him from doing such a thing.

            “No! Don’t stop! I-I’ve never bottomed, but this…oh my God…please don’t stop…”

            Cas’ eyed widened in surprise and then his groin was swelling even harder to the point of painful. Holy hell, Dean was a virgin.

            “If you feel any pain, you tell me, got it?” Cas said firmly, his mine may have been drowned with lust, but he wasn’t about to hurt this beautiful man below him.

            “I will, go, please, ah,” Dean gasped.

            Cas garnered his confidence, trying to push aside ‘virgin’ in his head, with careful ease he crooked his finger and Dean moaned so deliciously Cas thought that would be it.

            “C-Cas, come on, if you’re gonna do it, do it, I-I won’t last,” Dean grunted, grunted even harder when Cas removed his fingers, fumbled with the condom, carefully lubed himself even more and rested his cock at Dean’s entrance.

            “I’ll go slow,” he murmured against the shell of Dean’s ear, “Talk to me, tell me it’s okay.”

            Dean nodded, “I’m okay, ah, it feels good, move, please move, just slow.”

            And Cas did as told, undulating his hips in a slow gentle tandem, he was positive he was nudging Dean’s prostate each time. He was whining, begging, and moaning.  As their bodies locked, orgasms coming, Dean first and then Cas, Cas slumped against Dean with a high-pitched grunt.

            They were silent for a few measured seconds, Cas pushed himself up, eyes blinking and fighting for focus. His heart sank with the presence of tears pooling into Dean’s shortly cropped hair.

            “Dean,” Cas began, heart pounding, “What’s wrong….”

            “Nothing,” Dean chuckled around a sob, “I-I nothing…I just didn’t expect…to feel….”

            “It was your first time.” Cas frowned “I understand, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

            “It’s not,” he laughed once more, “I find you crazy sexy Cas…I didn’t imagine our first of anything being me crying after sex.”

            Cas shook his head, a soft laugh leaving his lips as well, “You are ridiculous.” he leaned forward and kissed his lips, nipping once more the top, then the bottom, “This was perfect, absolutely perfect. How about a shower huh?”

            Dean nodded, green eyes still looking far too wet, mouth too close to being a frown.

            Cas made it a point to wash Dean beneath the stream of hot water, he took special care to scrub his scalp.

            “This is why you should always hit on the shy ones, they give the most surprises,” Dean sighed happily at the attention Cas was giving his scalp.

            “Dean,” Cas began, “You know I’m not a one-night-stander kind a guy right?”

            Dean turned to him, eyes wide and completely vulnerable, more so than Cas had ever witnessed, “I….”

            “Are you?”

            “N-No I’m not,” Dean was shaking his head, “I wasn’t making shit up when I said you were beautiful. I want you Cas. Just you.”

            Cas smiled, warmth spreading out throughout his limbs as he cupped Dean’s face. He kissed him slow and meaningful, “I want you too. Let’s go to bed.”

            As they gathered beneath the covers of Dean’s bed, Cas felt absolute and complete contentment.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Weeks later, far past the end of the semester, the University art gallery displayed a series of painting by Dean Winchester titled “Painted Angels”

           


End file.
